Theme Of Tears
by CarmenTakoshi
Summary: [NicolxYzak, oneshot] I told Athrun that I did not understand why he was obliged to not like me...but that would not stop me from trying to like him.


A/N: DON'T KILL ME, STORM! -hides- I know, I know, I should be actually _updating_, instead of writing random, angstyGundam SEED one-shots. I know! But I just love this series so much! It totally owns me!

This is also making me think that I haven't written any het pairings since the KanexSalima of _NOTV_. Oh well. I should warn you all that I have an affinity with strange, overall implausible pairings, but as I said to one of my friends the other day, _if the circumstances are right..._happy readings!

Disclaimer: Hajime Yatate and Yoshiyuki Tomino own Gundam SEED, not Carmen Takoshi.

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**_Theme Of Tears  
one-shot by Carmen Takoshi  
_**

I know he is in there. He is always there, as though the four walls can protect him from whatever he seeks to hide from. But what is he hiding from? I do not understand him.

But does it matter, whether I understand him or not? Slowly, my hand goes up, and I automatically draw back the sleeve with my other hand. The uniform is too long for me. He teases me about it, and it sometimes hurts me to see his eyes so full of spite.

Athrun tells me not to worry about how scornful he is. Nobody is obliged to like me, Athrun says, and I know that. But I told Athrun that I still do not understand why he feels obliged to _not _like me.

Athrun laughed. His laugh was beautiful and ringing. I felt like I wanted to kiss him, to kiss that wonderful mirth, but I did not. It would have been strange, because Athrun is my friend, and once, jokingly, he had called himself my big brother. I did not want to lose that. So I did nothing.

I knock. He does not answer. I knock again, and there is another nonexistent answer. But I know he is in there. I open the door, and my hand is still gripping my sleeve.

"Yzak?"

I see him now, lying in full uniform upon one of the beds within the small dorm. The sheets are pulled neat and tight under him. The other bed is still undone.

"Hello, Yzak." I say, and I think that I must sound overly-happy.

He does not seem to react to, or even note my presence. He continues to stare at the ceiling, so I look up as well. There is nothing interesting about it. It is white, and as empty as the space existing outside.

"Usually when a person doesn't answer the door, it's because they don't want to be bothered."

Once again, it hurts me to hear his voice so angry, although his body seems relaxed, spread out on the bed. His legs are crossed at the ankles, and his hands are behind his head. His face looks as though he had not spoken at all. I wonder why I am here.

I move one step, just a bit deeper into the room. His presence stiffens, but he does not move. His expression flickers. I cannot read it.

"Get out." He says now, not angry anymore, but cold.

I almost obey. I turn, and my hand is close to the door's switch. My sleeve drapes over my fingers. I pull it back up, and look towards him again.

"Why?" I ask without thinking.

His eyes flash. They are so blue. I had never noticed before. Blue, like the simulated sky of PLANT.

"Because I said so. Get out, Nicol."

My name sounds strange on his lips, as though it is a word foreign to him, in a tongue that he cannot not quite master. He does not care about the way it sounds. Athrun cares. He says it warmly, and it makes me glad whenever I hear it. Even Dearka puts some amount of heed into it. His voice is warm as well, and laughing. Dearka is always laughing.

But Yzak is cold, and I have never heard him laugh.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He wants me to leave. He is wishing it so hard that I can see it on his face. But he says nothing. I shift in my too-long uniform. His eyes go towards me, but he does not look at my face. I feel vulnerable under his stare.

"Why are you still here?" he counters, a question for a question.

I do not know why I am still here. I want to move closer, but do not dare, because his eyes will freeze me where I stand if they meet mine.

But, he is not looking at me. His gaze goes past, or through, me, to the wall past the open door. Without turning around, I know that it is as riveting as the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" I repeat.

This time, even his eyes remain blank. He looks away, then turns on his side, towards another white wall. His hair rustles against his collar. I close the door.

Yzak does not do anything, although I know that he heard the hiss of the door and the hollow click when it met the frame, and that he knows that I am not gone. He will not do anything unless I prompt him to.

I stand there in silence for a long time, and he lies there as equally silent. I cannot even hear him breathe. My own breath seems loud.

His head turns. The sky blue has turned to ice.

"Why won't you just leave?" he asks in his same hard voice, and looks away again.

"Why? I want to talk."

He snorts, as though deeming the idea preposterous. Perhaps it is.

"Talk? With me? About _what_?"

His tone is heavy with sarcasm. I take one step, trying not to think about how much I want this hurt to stop.

"Something. Anything," I say slowly, "I hardly ever hear your voice."

I think, too late, about how silly that must have sounded. He knows it too. He snorts again, but he is turned away and does not see me blush.

"You're wasting your time, Nicol. There's nothing for _us _to talk about."

I wonder what his inflection to _us _could possibly mean.

"What are you saying?" I query, taking yet another step, "That you can talk with anyone else, but not me?"

His being radiates impatience, but I come closer still. I am two steps from the foot of the bed.

"I don't _talk _with anyone, kid," Yzak says now, in a stony tone of voice, to the wall, "so just clear off, okay?"

"You talk with Dearka."

"_Clear. Off._"

"No."

With something close to a snarl, he quickly swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. I had forgotten how much taller he is than me. But I do not step back. His eyes are completely the opposite of before now. They are of fire.

"Why the hell are you so stubborn?" he asks in a rising voice, "Since _when _are _you_ so damned stubborn?"

I face him, but I am afraid. I hold his gaze, but say nothing, and Yzak curses. He raises a fine hand as though to hit me.

But then he speaks, in a voice much lower than normal.

"Why won't you leave?"

I look up at him. He is still angry, and I am still afraid.

"Because," I answer, quietly, "I want to talk to you."

Without warning, he lashes out with a cry of mixed emotions, but I cannot identify any of them. There is a stinging pain; it is distant. I stumble backwards and fall. The floor is hard. I do not know if I shouted out.

"Now will you leave?" Yzak sneers.

He is satisfied with his deed. He turns towards his bed again. My back hurts where I hit the ground, and my head does as well. I wonder vaguely if I struck it in my fall. The left side of my face is hot with pain. I clutch it as I rise, feeling my sleeve fall loosely past my wrist. My other hand grasps the edge of the mussed bed. Yzak turns, but all I can see are his boots. They swirl in my vision. I feel like I am falling again.

Yzak watches me as I struggle to my feet. My grip on the bed is steadying, and soon I stand on my own. I look up at him. He is not happy.

"Going yet?"

I do not answer. It hurts to stand, and it hurts to see him looking at me like that, as though I am nothing.

He is about to look away again when I walk up to him. We are so close now. He knows it, and is surprised. He thinks that he had scared me away. His blue eyes are unreadable. Will he hit me again?

I do not give him time to do that. I lean up, on the tips of my toes, and press my mouth on top of his. He gasps. I feel myself sway from the dizziness brought by my injuries. I think I held on to him to keep from falling. His body is stiff.

I pull away. His expression is of stone. I do not want to fall, so I continue to hold on to his shoulders. This time, I do not know if he is angry.

"What was that for?" Yzak asks, his tone conveying nothing.

I manage to smile for some strange reason. My head hurts. I let go of him and sit heavily on the messy bed. The sheets are still warm, and I bury my fingers in them as I close my eyes. Light streams red through my eyelids.

I feel Yzak sit beside me. His breath is soft; I feel that he is thinking. My back aches, and my cheek still stings. I touch it gently.

Yzak shifts, but whether closer or farther I do not know.

"Why did you do that? I just hit you and you screamed. You're not supposed to kiss me after that."

I do not remember screaming.

"Who says?"

A question for a question, just like he had done to me. I hear a breath, like a laugh, but it fades.

"Common sense," Yzak replies evenly, "though you don't really seem to have any…so why?"

I smile.

"You just said. I don't have any common sense."

"Answer me."

That is a bit unfair, coming from him, who did not even wish to speak with me in the first place. But I answer.

"You're attractive," I say, opening my eyes again to find him staring at me.

The blue is nothing now. Just blue. His features are calculating, as though he thinks that I am lying. I am not.

"There's nothing attractive about me," he retorts in a harsh sort of voice, pressing his hands on his knees and standing.

I try to imitate him, but my legs are weak. I fall back, trying not to make a sound. I do not want Yzak to know how much I'm hurting because of him.

"Why do you say that?" I ask, my eyes following him as he crosses the room, seeming to have no goal at all.

He does not speak for a long time. He walks about the small dorm, looking at everything but me. He stops at the only desk of the room. There is a neat pile of papers on it, but he ignores them and opens one of the drawers, then closes it, and opens another. Is he looking for something?

"Because it's true."

It takes me a moment to remember what I had asked him. His back is turned. One of his hands go up to tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear. A woman's habit. I almost laugh.

"So you like boys, Nicol?"

Yzak is willing to talk now. Was a kiss all that it took?

"I don't know," I respond truthfully, casting my gaze to the floor.

"Hm."

He is silent again, rummaging through the last drawer. I hear paper, and the tips of his fingers scraping against the wood.

"So why did you kiss me?"

Must he keep on asking? I feel myself color, and at that precise moment he turns around, a few pages in one hand. He closes the drawer with the other, not caring if the whole desk rattles from his roughness. I look away so that he will not see my blush, although some part of me tells me he would not care. His boots click against the floor as he walks.

"Here."

Yzak is holding the papers towards me from where he stands, just a step before me. I look up and take them as he asks. His face is shadowed.

_Theme Of Tears_, says the cursive handwriting at the top. It is my handwriting. Yzak had one of my songs in his drawer.

The ink of some notes are smudged. I remember dragging my hand across the page by accident. I had cursed myself. Usually I did not make mistakes like that.

"How did you get this, Yzak?"

I had thought that I had lost it.

"It fell out of your locker two weeks ago. I read it."

"You can read notes?"

He walks away, towards his own bed. I want to rise, but cannot. My body will not obey.

"Why did you kiss me, Nicol?"

"Stop asking," I protest, "I already told you."

"Not entirely," Yzak returns, looking at me over his shoulder, "you said that you thought I was attractive, but you didn't say why."

I blush again. He watches me, waits for my answer. I am not sure if I should give it.

"I…"

He looks away. I force myself to reply.

"There is something about you, Yzak. Something that I can't find in Athrun or Dearka."

He listens. I steel myself, and stand. It still hurts, but I push it away. _Theme Of Tears _rustles in my hands.

"What's different about me?" Yzak prompts quietly.

He wants to hear. I breathe deeply.

"You're always alone. Even when you're speaking with Dearka, you look alone. In your eyes. You're always sad and…cold."

He says nothing. I walk towards him. My eyes are level with the back of his neck.

"And you find that attractive?" he asks.

There is wryness in his voice. He does not believe me. I shake my head.

"It's not that," I tell him, "it's…I…I don't know what it is…"

He breathes again, in that way that makes me think he is laughing, but the sound dies once more.

"You're just a kid," he says, "you don't understand…these things…"

"I'm not that much younger than you."

"Maybe not. But you still…"

"I _do _understand!"

"You're a _child_. You don't know about love."

Was I speaking of love?

"Does it matter?"

Yzak breathe-laughs again, quieter this time. Then he turns to face me. I did not think that I had walked so close to him.

"I don't know," he answers, looking me in the eyes with his gaze so blue, "it certainly didn't stop you."

I hold my head high. Never mind how much it aches.

"Maybe I'm not so much a kid as you think, Yzak Jule."

He looks at me. The sound of his full name has stirred something in his eyes. What is he thinking?

"Maybe not…Nicol Amalfi."

His voice is soft. Teasing. Why?

I decide then to leave. My hand is on the switch. My song crackles lightly against my palm. I turn back to Yzak, who is standing there, waiting for me to leave or to say something more.

His gaze is intense. I wish that I could know what he is thinking. But his eyes will not tell me.

"Yzak…" I start, watching the blue shift at the sound of his name, "would you…mind if…I came back tomorrow? Here?"

Yzak looks at me. He takes his time considering, but I wait. I wait long moments. Then he says the most extraordinary thing.

"Promise me you will."

"Pro-…?"

"Promise me you'll come back," Yzak repeats, unmoving in the center of the room save for his lips and eyes, "same place…and same time. Dearka won't be here. Promise me."

I look back at him. Then I smile. He seems stunned when I do.

"Promise is a strong word. Are you sure you want me to…?"

"Yes."

Yzak looks ashamed all of a sudden, and he casts his gaze to some point above my head. I approach him, and hold _Theme Of Tears _out to him. The pages crunch delightedly.

"You can have this, Yzak," I say, "and I promise that I'll come back tomorrow, and any other day too…if that's okay."

He nods, but will not take the song, though he brushes the title gently with a finger. I want that hand to be touching my face. I've wanted it for a long time.

"I'll hold you to your oath," says Yzak, and I think I see a flickering smile, "so don't disappoint me, Nicol."

"I won't. I swear," I answer, happy for the first time in a while.

"Swear…"

Yzak shakes his head, and I kiss him again, without thinking. But then I falter, suddenly reminded of my bruises, but he catches me, and for the first time I feel his arms around me. It is so warm. I thought that his body would be cold and hard, like his eyes, but he is warm, warm, warm, like the sheets that I curl into at night. Or the mellow sounds of my piano.

He breathes. I know now, seeing his face, that it is a laugh.

"You're just a kid," he mutters, placing his palm on his forehead, but I sense a smile, and I do not mind too much that he calls me a kid.

I push the pages into Yzak's hands. He accepts them without another word.

I am in the hallway. The door closes. I am alone. I shake out my sleeves and walk down the colorless hall, touching my lips as they throb from the new contact. My heart pounds in my chest, but I am happy. So happy.

Tomorrow, I will return to Yzak's room. Hopefully, we will speak as we did just moments ago.

If he lets me, I will kiss him again, and maybe then he will touch my face.

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(A/N: YzakxNicol is my OTP. -heart- Can anyone tell me what OTP stands for, anyway? I know what it means, but I don't, you know? -grins- Well, review if you like, and if you don't like, review to tell me why, EXCEPT if it's to diss the pairing/gay relationship. Everyone is entitled to write what they want. It's not like it was very hardcore anyway. So, ciao, people! 


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